This morning, my roommate got a good laugh. She blearily walked into the kitchen out of habit to make breakfast and then had to just shake her head, muttering, "I must have one of the strangest roommates out there."
I turned around upon hearing this and was confused why she was giving me strange looks. Poor Kim. She has to explain to me that most people our age don't see a holed cooking utensil and immediately think, "Bubbles."
My excuse (though we both know I didn't need one) was that last week our Sunday school lesson was on "joy."
Kim's starting to get used to me, because she leaned over to peer at the sink and said, "Joy, huh? Well, actually...it looks like you're using Dawn."
But I realized much to my excitement that despite the fact that I'm getting wiser, taller, more gray hairs, and responsible, I'm not growing "old" in the ways that count.
